


Forgiveness

by Horsetamer5



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Jon adopts Olly, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horsetamer5/pseuds/Horsetamer5
Summary: Jon does not die from the attack by Thorne and the others. While his decision to put Thorne and the others to death is sure; Jon decides to spare Olly’s life. The Lord Commander takes the wayward boy in hand and back under his wing as an adopted son in hopes of giving Olly the fatherly love that he so desperately needs
Relationships: Olly & Jon Snow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will contain corporal punishment. If that bothers you, please don’t read.  
> No flames, please.

Jon Snow was sitting up in bed, mulling over his decision to put Alliser Thorne and the other traitors to death. The only one who would be spared from the gallows was Olly. 

True, the boy deceived Jon; leading him to the courtyard where Thorne and the others had stabbed him. However, during the attack, Jon caught a glimpse of Olly among the other men, and he saw the horror marring the boy’s face. 

The other traitors were grown men, but Olly was only four and two at the most. He was a child. A child who was easily influenced. A child who had made a mistake.

Olly was taken into custody and put in a cell just like Thorne and the others. 

Jon’s second in command, Eddison Tollett, reported that Olly spent his time in the cells curled in a corner, refusing to eat and sobbing out broken apologies. Edd and the other brothers guarding the cells said that the boy only slept when he had cried himself into unconsciousness. 

It was clear to all that Thorne exploited Olly’s grief and rage against the Wildlings in an attempt to turn the boy against his mentor.

So, four days after his near-death experience, Jon ordered for Olly to be removed from the cells and brought to him.

* * *

The door to the Lord Commander’s quarters swung open to admit Edd and Olly into the room. 

Edd had an arm wrapped around Olly’s shoulders, which appeared to be the only thing keeping the boy standing.

Olly’s head was bowed, but from what Jon could see, the child’s eyes were red, and dried tear tracks stained his face. Also, Olly’s entire body was wracked with minute tremors; whether from the cold of the cells or just the fear of awaiting his fate, Jon could not tell.

“Thank you, Edd,” Jon said to his second in command. “I’ll take Olly from here.” 

“Come on, lad,” Edd instructed Olly in a soft voice as he led the boy over to Jon’s bedside. Once there, he gently lifted the boy to sit on the edge of the bed. The lad was clearly too tired to climb up there on his own.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” Edd informed the two before he knelt down and gently took hold of Olly’s chin.

“Everything is going to be just fine,” Edd assured the boy; Jon smiled at the paternal tone that laced his friend’s voice. “Remember what I told you earlier, you’ll feel much better when you set this right.”

Olly nodded slightly, and Edd took that as his cue to leave.

* * *

The Lord Commander and his ward sat in silence for a long while; Jon waiting for Olly to look at him and Olly kicking slightly at the edge of the bed.

“Do you hate me?” Olly blurted out suddenly. 

“No,” Jon answered. “I am disappointed in your behavior, but I do not hate you, Olly. I don’t hate you at all.”

“Are ya gonna hang me like the others?” Olly asked hesitantly. “I understand if you are. I’m a traitor.” 

The boy trailed off, and his body shuddered as he began to sob quietly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jon murmured, reaching over to pull Olly against him. His wounds protested at the movement, but Jon ignored the pain. “I’m not going to hang you, son,” the Lord commander assured. “I’m not gonna hang you because you’re not a traitor. You’re a good lad who got swept up in a series of bad decisions.” 

All of the tension drained out of the boy’s body, and he turned to hide his face against Jon’s chest; sobbing out broken apologies.

“There now, it’s alright, son,” Jon murmured, tightening his embrace around the boy. “Everythin’s gonna be alright. Just cry it out, there’s a good lad.”

Eventually, Olly cried himself out, his ragged sobs dissolving into quiet whimpers. 

“How long has it been since you got some sleep?” Jon asked.

“Don’ know,” Olly answered. “Probably since before the attack.”

“Well, here’s what’s going to happen then,” Jon began. “You and I are gonna get some sleep for a few hours. Then we’ll have supper, and before bed, we’re gonna have a talk about your recent behavior.”

Olly averted his gaze at the mention of a “talk,” he’d been Jon’s ward long enough to know that it most certainly meant a thrashing. 

“Hey,” Jon murmured, seeing the change in his young steward’s behavior, “Let’s try not to worry about that yet, okay? We both need some sleep.”

* * *

Supper was a quiet affair, and too soon for his liking, Jon had to steel himself for the difficult task of meeting out discipline to his errant ward.

Before starting their talk, the Lord Commander handed Olly a set of sleep clothes and instructed the 

12-year-old to change into them.

“I had Edd bring some of your things over yesterday,” Jon explained in response to the boy’s questioning look. “You’re going to be living with me for the foreseeable future. Given what has transpired, I cannot trust you to keep yourself safe,” he continued sternly. “Consider this part of your punishment if you must, but I will not argue the matter. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir,” Olly responded meekly.

“Good lad,” Jon praised. “Now, go and change while I get your bed set up. I have no doubt that we will both want to sleep after our conversation.”

* * *

Olly re-entered the room to find a cot set up at the foot of his mentor’s bed. However, the 12-year-old had little time to contemplate the sight as a firm hand grasped his wrist, and he was led over to a chair. He felt Jon’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him to sit down. Soon enough, Jon sat down in the chair across from the boy.

“I am very disappointed in the choices that you have made in the past week, Olly,” Jon began. “Can you tell me why that might be?”

“I betrayed you,” Olly responded softly. “I knew that Ser Alliser was going to trick you, and I led you to the courtyard anyway. I let them convince me to help. It’s my fault that ya got hurt.”

“And what do all of these have in common?” Jon pressed.

“T-they make me a traitor,” Olly answered. 

“That wasn’t the answer I was looking for,” Jon corrected, leaning forward to take gentle hold of the boy’s chin. 

“Yes, you chose to listen to Ser Alliser and carry out his orders, but that does not make you a traitor. Furthermore, the fault of the attack lies on the men who carried it out. You are not one of those men; you are a young boy who got caught up in some very bad choices.”

Jon paused for a moment to let his statement sink in before continuing.

“What all of your earlier admissions have in common is that they served to put **you** in danger. You risked your life to follow a group of men who could care less about what happens to you. If they had killed me, you would’ve ended up being put to death with the rest of them. Ser Alliser is a man who only thinks of his own interests. Seven hells, Olly! I don’t even want to think of what would’ve happened to you had Tormund and the others not come along when they did!”

Olly cowered back in the chair at his mentor’s raised voice. Never in his time as Jon’s ward had the 12-year-old heard the Lord Commander’s ire directed at him.

Seeing Olly’s reaction, Jon took a few calming breaths to center himself before he turned to address his adoptive son.

“Now that you understand what you did wrong, we need to talk about your punishment,” the Lord Commander said, forcing himself to remain stern. “Tell me, Olly, do you remember what I told you the last time we had to discuss your safety?” 

Olly’s eyes widened in realization, and he shook his head as he leveled his adopted father with pleading eyes.

“Son, when I ask a question, I expect an answer,” Jon commanded. “What did I say would happen?” 

“T-that you’d spank me every night before bed for a week,” Olly answered.

“And that is exactly what is going to happen,” Jon continued. “Since you are already receiving a sound thrashing tonight, that part of your punishment will begin tomorrow. Furthermore, since I cannot trust you to stay out of trouble and keep yourself safe, you will remain under my direct supervision until I say otherwise. This means that along with staying in my quarters, you will be sleeping on a cot in my room. As you begin to prove trustworthy again, you will earn certain privileges back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Olly responded. “I understand. I’ll listen, I promise.”

“I hope so,” Jon responded, reaching over to pull Olly to stand between his legs. “Now, we still have one issue left to deal with before bed, so let’s get it over with, eh?”

Olly nodded in agreement, moving to stand at his mentor’s side. The boy kept his head bowed as he was divested of his pants and underclothes.

 _“You’ve earned this,”_ Olly thought as he was directed to lie over Jon’s knee. _“Take it like a grown-up and just be thankful that you’re not being put to death.”_

Jon raised his hand and brought it down, harshly against his ward’s backside. 

Olly’s plans of taking his punishment like an adult were dashed after the first few swats. He began to struggle at the grip around his waist.

“Noo!” The boy whined, kicking out as another smack rained down. “Too hard!”

The boy’s complaints were rewarded by a volley of smacks to his upper thighs.

“Olly, you know the rules,” Jon scolded. “No kicking. If you do that again, you’re getting extra swats.”

“Y-yes s-sir,” the boy responded.

The punishment continued in relative silence for a long while. The only sounds filling the room were those of the swats and Olly’s cries.

Eventually, Jon decided to wind down the punishment. He paused and rubbed Olly’s back, waiting for the boy to calm down enough to register his instructions. 

“We’re almost finished, son,” Jon murmured. “You’re doing so well, Olly. You have 25 swats coming from my belt, and then we’ll be all done.”

Olly wailed at the news, fighting and bucking against his mentor’s hold. 

“No! Not the belt! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the boy pleaded. 

Jon opted to ignore his ward’s outburst. The Lord Commander looped the belt in his hand; triple-checking to make sure that the buckle was firmly in his grip. He then lifted his hand and snapped the belt down against Olly’s sit spots, prompting a scream from the boy.

The process repeated until the punishment was finally over.

* * *

Jon set the belt back down before lifting his contrite ward up into his arms.

“I sorry! I sorry!” Olly sobbed. “Sorry, papa, so sorry!”

Jon felt his heart shatter at his adoptive son’s cries. 

“It’s alright, son. You’re alright, I forgive you,” Jon assured, reaching down to fix the boy’s pants and underclothes. 

Olly yelped and began to sob harder as the rough material was pulled over his abused backside. 

No matter what Jon said, Olly just couldn’t seem to settle down. Eventually, the boy’s sobs were broken by intermittent coughing fits. 

Just when the Lord Commander thought that his ward was beginning to calm down, Olly’s whole body jolted; a telltale sign that he was going to be sick. 

Jon managed to grab an empty bowl just in time for the boy to retch and vomit up his meager supper. 

The embarrassment of the incident only served to upset the boy again.

Jon knew that he had to get Olly settled, or the cycle would continue. 

So, Jon stood up and settled the small 12-year-old on his hip before making his way over to the bed. Laying down with his upper body propped on the headboard; Jon deftly maneuvered Olly to lay backwards against his chest. 

Taking hold of Olly’s arms, Jon crossed them about his chest. The Lord Commander gently secured the boy’s legs under his own ankles.

The technique proved successful as Olly’s breathing began to slow, and his cries tapered into soft, fussy, whimpers.

“There we go,” Jon murmured, rubbing a firm hand over Olly’s belly. “Just breathe, son. You’re safe. I’m right here; papa’s right here.”

They sat for a long time until Olly was fully settled. The emotional upheaval of the past week had taken a severe toll on the child. Jon knew that he was going to have to tailor the rest of the boy’s punishment with his new emotional needs in mind.

 _“Olly was forced to grow up so fast,”_ Jon thought. “ _It will do him so good to be treated as a child and to have the freedom to act his age. He hasn’t had the love and support of a parent since the attack on his village. He sorely needs that support, and I am more than happy to provide it.”_

Olly let out a jaw-cracking yawn, causing Jon to smile. 

“Looks like someone is ready for bed,” he teased gently.

“Uh-huh,” Olly murmured tiredly. 

“Let’s get ya into a clean shirt and into bed,” Jon suggested. “I was plannin’ to give you a bath, but I think we can forgo that until tomorrow mornin’.”

“Kay,” Olly agreed, sounding much younger than his 12 years. All pretense of being an adult had vanished. “Carry me?” he asked. 

“Sure, son, I’ll carry ya.”Jon obliged. Before long, Jon had Olly changed into a clean shirt and settled enough to sleep.

Carrying the sleeping boy over, Jon lay him down on his belly on the cot and tucked the blankets securely around him. Then Jon reached down and lifted up a guard rail attached to the bed and locked it securely into place.

Jon knew for a fact that when Olly had nightmares, the boy either fell out of bed or ended up sleepwalking. The Lord Commander had no doubt that the boy would have nightmares after the emotional trauma of the past week. Olly didn’t need to end up with a broken arm or leg on top of everything else that he had been through. 

After making sure the boy was secure, Jon began to prepare himself for bed. Quietly, he called for Ghost, who was keeping guard in the other room. 

The white direwolf came trotting in and made a beeline for Olly. 

“He’ll be alright, boy,” Jon assured, watching Ghost lick at Olly’s outstretched hand. “We’ll all be alright.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will contain corporal punishment. If that bothers you, please don’t read.  
> No flames, please.

The next day was uneventful. Olly spent most of the day sleeping, thoroughly exhausted by the emotional let down of the past few weeks. 

The boy spent his waking hours glued to Jon's side, either laying by the fireplace in the outer office or curled up in a chair next to the Lord Commander's desk. 

As the sun began to set over Castle Black, Jon filed away his last report for the day. Looking over, he found Olly fast asleep yet again. 

Reaching over, the Lord Commander began to card a hand through the sleeping boy's hair.

"Olly, it's time to wake up," Jon murmured, keeping his voice low so as not to startle the child. 

"Come now; you need a bath and supper before bed. Can you wake up for me?"

After a bit of coaxing, Olly blinked slowly and looked up at his mentor. 

"There's a good lad," Jon praised, helping the 12-year-old to stand. "C'mon, let's get settled in for the night."

* * *

Jon sighed as he watched Olly pick at his supper. The boy's head was bowed, and he remained silent. Every so often, he would take a small bite of food before putting his fork down and staring at the table as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"C'mon lad, eat your supper," Jon coaxed. "Ya haven't had much to eat today, so you must be hungry."

Olly remained silent and shook his head.

 _"Well, that's new,"_ Jon thought, his stomach clenching in concern. _"Olly's a growing child. He is almost ALWAYS hungry."_

"Alright," the Lord Commander stated, setting his own food aside and moving to pick the boy up before settling Olly on his lap.

"I want to know what's got ya so upset that you've gone off your food," Jon instructed. 

Olly shook his head again, and this time, tears welled in his eyes.

"Are you nervous about gettin' a spanking tonight?" Jon asked, realization beginning to dawn on him.

Olly nodded before answering in a soft voice. "'jus want it to be over."

"If we deal with your punishment now, it'll make you feel better?" Jon asked.

"Uh-huh," Olly admitted.

"Alright, let's get it over with then," Jon said, standing Olly in front of him to ready the boy for his punishment.

* * *

The actual spanking was over surprisingly quickly. It was nothing like Olly's punishment the night before. Jon swatted the boy just long enough to re-ignite the sting in his backside and draw out some tears.

A few minutes later, he stood the boy up and righted his clothing. 

"C' mere son," he encouraged, pulling Olly into a hug. The 12-year-old cried for a few more minutes before settling in his adopted father's arms.

"That's all you have to expect as a spanking for the next week," Jon assured. "Just a few swats from my hand, no more. Nothin' to get so worked up over. Do ya feel better now?"

"Yeah," Olly admitted, resting his head against Jon's chest.

"Do ya think that you can finish your supper?" Jon asked. 

"Sit with me?" Olly pleaded, looking up at his mentor with wide, imploring eyes.

"Of course, son," Jon agreed. "Of course."

* * *

"I have to go into the other room and give some parchments to Grenn," Jon said as he finished drawing up a bath for his ward. "Can you manage for a few minutes by yourself?"

"Sure," Olly responded.

"I'll leave Ghost to keep an eye on ya," Jon continued with a teasing smile. "So, make sure to behave yourself."

"Yes, sir," Olly laughed. "No trouble, I promise."

"How're you feeling?" Grenn asked as Jon entered the room. 

"I'm doing alright," Jon responded. "I can't wait to be completely healed, but gods know that Olly will be keeping me occupied for quite a while."

"How's the lad settlin' back in?" Grenn inquired. 

Jon was about to answer when a loud thud emanated from the next room; followed by the sound of Olly's screams.

Jon and Grenn raced into the room to find Olly sprawled on the floor with his shirt off, clutching his left side and wailing.

"Seven hells!" Jon exclaimed as he knelt beside the boy and saw the source of Olly's pain.

The 12-year-old's side was a mass of deep purple and blue bruises. The injury stretched from just under his armpit and traveled past the waistband of his britches. The deepest bruising centered around the child's rib cage, and Jon saw the telltale mark fists mottling the entirety of the area.

"I'll go and get Sam," Grenn said. "We need to check for any broken ribs."

Jon nodded in agreement before gently lifting Olly into his arms and carrying the boy over to his bed.

"Shh, shh," the Lord Commander soothed as the 12-year-old fussed in his arms. "Just relax, Olly. Grenn's gone to get Sam; we're gonna get ya fixed up in no time."

"H-hurts," Olly whined. "Papa hurts bad." 

"I'll bet it does, son," Jon agreed. "Did ya get that during the mess with Thorne and the others?"

"Uh-huh," Olly responded. "S-ser Alliser grabbed me when Tormund and all them free folk charged in. H-he hit me and pushed me towards them. T-then in the cells, he beat. 'Told me that I was a stupid little boy and that all this was my fault. Said that if I'd stabbed you like I was supposed to; we wouldn't be in the cells."

"Why didn't you tell me that you were hurt?" Jon asked, kissing the top of Olly's head to take any sting out of the words. 

"M-my side went numb after it happened," Olly said. "But then I slipped and hit the side of the tub. That's when it started hurting again."

Before Jon could respond, the door to their quarters opened, and Sam entered with Grenn following close behind.

* * *

Olly let out a small scream as Sam palpated his ribs. Gods, he'd forgotten how much the bruises hurt!

"I'm sorry, Olly," Sam apologized in a kind voice. "I'm almost done, I promise."

Jon gently cupped the side of Olly's head and drew the boy to rest against him.

"Well, the good news is that I don't feel any broken ribs at the moment," Sam announced. "Though I won't be able to tell for sure until we get the swelling and bruising down. What I want to do is wrap Olly's chest with a poultice for the next three days. After that, I'll recheck the bruising, and we'll go from there."

After finishing his explanation, the young maestor turned to address the boy. 

"Is that alright with you, Olly?"

"I-is it gonna hurt?" the 12-year-old asked.

"It'll probably be uncomfortable tonight and tomorrow as you get used to having your ribs bound," Sam answered before turning to Jon. "I'll leave a vial of Milk of the Poppy that you can give him for the pain. The dose that I give him now should last him through the night."

Jon gave a small nod of thanks to his friend, both steeling themselves for the task ahead.

* * *

Jon sighed in exhaustion, setting aside the book that he was reading. He looked down, and his heart warmed with paternal affection at the sight before him. 

After three hours of fussing, Olly was **finally** asleep. 

The lay on his uninjured side, thumb loosely held in his mouth with his head tucked against Jon's side.

At first, Jon had tried putting Olly to bed on his own cot, but the boy spent over an hour tossing and turning. Eventually, the boy ended up whacking his injured side against the bed's guard rails. As a result, the boy collapsed in a fit of frustrated sobs.

At that point, Jon decided to have Olly sleep with him for the night. Olly still fussed, so Jon spent the two hours patting the child's back and bottom until he finally succumbed to exhaustion. 

Jon set his book on the bedside table and softly called for Ghost to come. 

The giant white Direwolf hopped up on the bed and curled up at Olly's feet; resting his head on the boy's legs.

* * *

A hard kick to his leg jolted Jon awake. At first, the Lord Commander was disoriented, looking around the room in confusion. 

The sound of pained sobs drew his attention to the tiny figure beside him. 

Olly was thrashing in his sleep, letting out distraught little cries that tore at Jon's heart. Most of what the boy said was unintelligible, but there were two words that Jon caught. They were repeated over and over again.

"Sorry! Papa! Sorry! Sorry!" Olly whimpered.

In one fluid motion, Jon lifted the child into his arms, cradling Olly so that the boy's head was nestled in the crook of his elbow. As if the boy were no more than a colicky babe.

"Olly, son, it's time to wake up now," Jon murmured. "C'mon, open your eyes for me."

After a few minutes, Olly settled, blinking into wakefulness; although Jon wasn't convinced that the boy was genuinely lucid.

"Hey there, son," Jon greeted. "Everythin's alright. Ya just had a bad dream." 

The child let out a small sigh in response and closed his eyes again. 

Once he was sure that the boy was well and truly asleep; Jon gently settled him back on the bed. 

He then settled back down and closed his eyes again, lulled to sleep by the soft breathing of his adopted son and the periodic howling of wolves beyond the wall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will contain corporal punishment. If that bothers you, please don’t read.  
> No flames, please.
> 
> Also, Grenn and Pyp are also alive in this fic. In my AU they both survived the Wildling attack on the wall.

Today was the day. The day that Jon would put Thorne and his band of traitors to death. The Lord Commander contemplated having Olly attend the execution. However, five nights of rocking his ward back to sleep after violent nightmares made it clear to Jon that the boy was in no state to witness such a thing. 

So, he asked Pyp to keep an eye on the boy and keep Olly distracted until the execution was over. Pyp was more than happy to oblige; now, he and Olly were engaged in an intense game of Cyvasse. 

"How did you beat me again?!" Pyp cried in mock dismay. "I just taught ya this game, how in seven hells did you catch on so fast?!"

"Somethin' tells me that he's played this game before," Jon said, sharing a conspiratorial grin with his adopted son. 

Pyp paused for a moment, looking between his Lord Commander and the boy. 

"You little trickster," he said, causing Olly to dissolve into a fit of giggles. "You knew how to play this entire time!"

Olly just nodded as he began to laugh harder. 

Jon longed to stay a bit longer, but he forced himself to focus on the task ahead. 

"Olly, I have to go deal with Thorne and the other men," Jon informed the teen, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and rubbing it slightly. "I'll be back as soon as I can, alright?"

* * *

Jon walked past the crowd gathered in the courtyard, and up the stairs towards the gallows. The three traitors Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwick, and Alliser Thorne, were standing on a platform with their hands tied and ropes around their necks. Jon looked up at them and paused before speaking. 

"If you have any last words, now is the time," he informed the men.

"You shouldn't be alive. It's not right!" Marsh exclaimed in disbelief.

"Neither was killing me," Jon countered, walking over to stand in front of the second traitor.

"My mother's still living at White Harbor. Could you write to her? Tell her I died fighting the wildings," Yarwick begged. 

Jon just stared at him for a bit, silently shocked at the audacity of the man; before making his way to stand in front of Thorne.

"I had a choice, Lord Commander. Betray you or betray the Night's Watch. You brought an army of wildlings into our lands—an army of murderers and raiders. If I had to do it all over knowing where I'd end up, I pray I'd make the right choice again," Thorne said.

"I'm sure you would, Ser Alliser," Jon said bitterly. The two men locked eyes for a second before Thorne continued.

"I fought, I lost. Now I rest. But you, Lord Snow, you'll be fighting their battles forever," with that, Thorne stared straight ahead of him. 

Jon turned his back and unsheathed Longclaw. He breathed heavily before bringing the sword down to cut the rope. The platform was pulled out from under the traitors' feet. The men choked for a few minutes before going limp. They were dead. It was over.

* * *

Jon turned to head back down from the gallows when he suddenly caught sight of his adopted son, Olly standing with Pyp.

The boy stared up at the gallows. His eyes were fearful, and his small chest heaved with panicked breaths.

"Olly," Jon murmured, holding out a hand towards the boy in an attempt to soothe him.

Just as the Lord Commander was about to grasp his young steward's wrist, the teen bolted.

"Jon, I am SO sorry," Pyp apologized. "I turned my back for one second, and he was gone." 

"There's nothing to apologize for, my friend," Jon assured. "The fault is mine, I should have anticipated that this would happen. Olly is too curious for his own good at times."

* * *

Olly hid in the farthest corner of his closet; knees tucked to his chest and hands around his head as he sobbed. 

He had disobeyed Jon. Jon told him to stay with Pyp, and he snuck away. 

_"Now he's gonna hang me too,"_ Olly thought. _"He gave me a second chance, and I was bad. He'll hang me for sure!"_

Those thoughts only served to make the teen cry harder. 

_"I have to run away,"_ the boy thought. _"If I run away, then he won't have to hang me."_

Frantically searching in the dark, Olly found a small bag that he brought to Castle Black after the attack on his village. Inside he found a small, leather-bound journal and a pocket knife. Those would have to do, there was no time to grab anything else. 

Crawling out of the closet, Olly paused to listen for the sound of footsteps. When he heard none, the 14-year-old made a break for it. He ran out of his quarters, down the stairs, and straight into a solid, leather-clad chest.

Falling onto his backside, Olly looked up to meet the concerned gaze of Jon Snow.

Yelping, the boy scrambled backward, swinging his rusted knife wildly in front of him. 

"Olly," Jon murmured, taking a knee and reaching out a placating hand towards the terrified child. "Why don't you put the knife down before you hurt yourself, eh?" 

When the boy refused to obey, Jon reached out and grabbed Olly's wrist. He squeezed it gently; applying just enough pressure to force the teen's grip on the knife to go slack. 

Feeling powerless without his weapon and overwhelmed from the morning's events, Olly began to cry. 

"C' mere son," Jon encouraged, using his grip on Olly's wrist to draw the boy into his arms. 

Olly went willingly, too scared and upset to do anything else. Jon stood up and lifted the terrified child onto his hip, pressing a kiss to the top of the boy's head. After ensuring that he had a good hold on his ward, Jon turned to walk back towards his quarters.

* * *

"So, can you tell what has you so riled up?" Jon asked kindly as he situated Olly on his lap. 

"Didn' listen," Olly admitted. "Yer gonna hang me cause I disobeyed you."

"Oh, Olly," Jon sighed. "I'm not gonna execute you for what happened today."

"You're not?" Olly asked hesitantly.

"Of course not," Jon promised.

"A-are ya gonna spank me?" the boy inquired. "For not listening?" 

Jon decided to forgo Olly's bedtime spankings three days after the boy's first punishment; deeming that the boy learned his lesson. However, there was nothing stopping him from punishing Olly for this newest bout of disobedience.

"Do ya think you deserve a spanking?" Jon pressed. 

Olly nodded slightly, toying with a loose thread on his father's tunic. 

In response, Jon lifted the boy slightly and placed two firm smacks on his bottom.

"There's your spanking," the Lord Commander said in response to the boy's shocked look. 

"That's it?" Olly asked.

"That's it," Jon affirmed. "That's it because I don't believe that you deserve a spanking. While I'm not too pleased that you snuck out, I am not going to punish you for being curious. The fault lies on me for not telling you why I wanted you to stay inside with Pyp. I would have given anything for you to have not witnessed what transpired today."

Olly remained silent as he toyed with a loose piece of leather on his father's jerkin.

 _"It may do us some good to get out of Castle Black for a few hours,"_ Jon thought. _"I'm already anticipating that we're going to have a rough night. Going for a hunt would certainly tire Olly out if nothing else."_

"Olly, what do you say that we go hunting for a few hours. Give ya a chance to practice your archery skills? Would ya like that?"

Olly nodded, seeming to perk up a bit at the mention of leaving the castle.

"Well, go and get your gear then," Jon encouraged, gently helping the boy to stand. "We'll head out as soon as yer ready."

Olly moved towards the bedroom before turning back and throwing his arms around Jon's neck.

"Thanks, Papa," the boy murmured. 

"Any time, son," Jon murmured, turning slightly to kiss the boy's temple. "Any time."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments are greatly appreciated and help motivate me to write more.


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